


Motion Sickness

by thrushrut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrushrut/pseuds/thrushrut
Summary: Terror leaps into his throat,mind seizing in fear that he was not alone,that he would be attacked,that he was defenseless,He Is Defenseless.





	1. Keith

There comes, out of the darkness of the small space. A soft hiss, a noise at a pitch so low it would be lost on any human ear it might come across.

 

It was in moments like these that Keith was thankful he was part galra, ears catching the sensitive sound with no hassle at all.

 

Yet he does not dwell on this as he jolts with a start, the hissing a constant in the other wise deathly silence. 

 

There’s no one, there’s nothing, this isn’t a cryopod. Allura and Coran and all of his team aren’t standing eagerly before him in the familiar off-white medbay, no friendly smiles greet him.

 

It’s just cold, and lonely. 

 

Keith thinks back to the last thing he remembers before the hissing and finds a blank wall. It’s an icy void, unyielding to even the supernova flare of his temper.

 

“Patience yields focus, Keith,” the soft ghost of Shiro’s voice reminds him. Shiro, the others, he had to focus. With a forced inhale, he pushes his lack of memories down and squints into the inky blackness before him.

It was unnerving to think his eyes were open, if he hadn’t tested out blinking a few rapid times he’d have been sure they were still closed in mock sleep. Struggling for a sense of self, he wiggles his fingers and finds the surface beneath him is soft and solid. In a way it's reminiscent of a medical table, yet Keith wasn’t hooked up to anything. Like he’s been dumped out across it like some half assed after thought.

 

Keith is pretty damn sure he should be offended, but the fear in his mind is growing with every passing second of his helplessness. Or was he so helpless? 

 

Quick hands pat down every viable pocket he has, desperate for something, his bayard, his knife, any knife. Surprisingly there’s something small and oddly shaped tucked in an inner breast pouch, in fact if he was correct….

 

“A gemstone?” he mouths, finding the action comforting as the object is lifted to his face. There’s a chain reaction in that moment, like it had been waiting to be exposed to the air. Suddenly it’s not dark anymore, the crystal in his hand has begun to shimmer a soft blue color that casts a light across the whole of the area in seconds. 

 

Terror leaps into his throat, mind seizing in fear that he was not alone, that he would be attacked, that he was defenseless. 

 

But the glow reveals that it’s just Keith, tucked away on a small bed in a pocket sized space filled with odd crystallized plants of different shapes and sizes. They’d been unresponsive before, but with the introduction of the light it was like a chain reaction. Each little plant begins to bloom, illuminate with various colors and intensities. 

 

For just the barest moment, he feels comforted and feverently wishes someone was here to be a second witness to the abstract beauty. 

 

This thought is another sharp reminder that he is alone, abandoned. Discomfort crawls along his skin and his teeth clench reflexively. Keith makes a sloppy attempt to hyper focus on the plants, watching their lights travel from his small alcove and expand into a much larger room.

 

‘Progress,’ he thinks, and for once the normally headstrong paladin of red finds himself almost hesitant to leave. This wasn’t a normal mission, this wasn’t dealing with some goons from the Garrison back on Earth, this wasn’t some weird trust exercise that Allura and Coran had cooked up. Keith is alone, unequip, and in a completely foreign environment void of any memories on how he got there. 

 

Owlish eyes suddenly swing back to the little crystal wedged between his fingers, and a few thoughts occur.

 

How did he get this, and why was he wearing his normal jacket?

 

Where was his paladin suit? 

 

The previous nerves are back with a vengeance, and so is Shiro’s voice, parroting that stupid phrase over and over in his skull like it has all the answers. Well it doesn’t, it fucking doesn’t and it’s worthless and he doesn’t want to be here anymore, he’s decided that way before now but it felt important to properly state it. 

 

In the end, the lights and lack of movement outside of his safe zone encourage Keith to slide off the little bed. As soon as any weight is placed on his legs they threaten to buckle, but he’s better than this, he thinks harshly, hands grappling at the frame to support himself. He would not fall just because of some pins and needles in his feet. 

 

For a moment he simply stands, allowing the feeling to melt away before ducking into a crouch and shifting to the lip of the alcove, granting him access to peer out across the room. 

 

It’s covered wall to wall in the crystal plants, they rain from the ceiling and grow from the ground in wild unkempt displays. If Keith had to take a guess he’d say this was some kind of greenhouse, even if he didn’t know how exactly these things survived. He chalked it up to Space Stuff, Lance would be proud.

 

Logically he knew there to be a lot of areas for enemies to hide, in the same respect, so did he.

 

With a careful vice grip on the shard he’s found, Keith makes a steady progression out into the stalagmite jungle. He feels like a child, small and unsteady, playing a familiar game in unknown terrain. Yet there is no exhilaration here, just the uneven jack rabbiting of his heart with every step toward what he’s dubbed the exit.

 

The hissing has grown louder, not by much, but enough for Keith to make an educated guess that it wasn’t even in the same room as him. 

 

What kind of object could be making a sound so loud it could be heard across several rooms? He has no clue, but he’s sure at some point he’ll damn well find out whether he wants to or not.

 

There’s only a few more larger rock formations he can maneuver around, but he finds that it’s enough. Because sure as shit there’s a door no more than ten feet from him, it’s closed, but a small access panel lies just to the side. 

 

Steps light, breathing nearly halted, Keith finally reaches his destination and can practically feel his skull reverberate with his shrieking nerves. 

 

In a thoughtless move, he attempts to swipe a hand over the panel. It, of course, doesn’t budge, much to his frustration.

 

‘But,’ he thinks suddenly, ‘what if….’

 

Slowly, with as much care as he can manage. Keith lays the crystal on the panel, pressing his palm on top of it gently. 

 

A streak of light comes over the door, and in one fluid motion it drifts open, revealing nothing more than an empty hallway. This was good, it was good, Keith was doing so good.

 

He picked up his hand, crystal and all, and several things happen at once.

 

The door whips shut, the sound harsh and aggressive to his ringing ears. In a great swell, the glowing flora of the room extinguishes, plunging him back into a tense, disorienting darkness.

 

The crystal in his palm glows no more, it’s as if it’s died instantly in his palm. 

 

Keith can feel tears in his eyes, there’s something clogging his throat.

 

Something is moving in, it’s closer, it’s so close.

 

Fingertips brush at the base of his neck.

 

Keith screams and screams and remembers nothing more. 


	2. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thalassophobia, the fear of the sea, the fear of the depth.

Coherency comes to Lance in a sharp snap. From one blip to another he finds that he is himself, awake, in existence, and acutely aware of a slew of things all at once. 

 

It’s dim, not dark, thanks to the softly pulsing tiles of light just under foot. A quick glance around proves what Lance already knows, the room is endless, or it feels endless. There is no defined walls or exists in sight, just a murky emptiness that travels for miles.

 

This brings another issue to Lance’s mind, something he finds he cannot quite grasp no matter how hard he tries. It’s not until he attempts to move, and the very space around him bends like liquid.

 

It  _ was  _ liquid.

 

He was underwater. 

 

Lance waits for the panic, thinks he can feel it whisper just under his skin before it lulls into nothing. If anything he finds this whole situation as interesting as it was bizarre. There doesn’t seem to be anything before existing in this room. No mission he can recall, no ambush in the dead of space from enemies of Voltron.

 

With delayed reactions he pats down his suit, wait, he blinks down at the solid white skin suit suctioned to his form. Did he take a hit? Lance wasn’t entirely sure he could ever recall ending up in a dream space like this while recuperating in one of the cryopods.

 

Something whispers in the back of his mind that this was anything but a dream.

 

With no other reason to remain, he pushes up, finding the liquid that holds him seems to be of the same weight as water, and swims. 

 

It’s a strange sensation being able to breathe with no aid while swimming, Lance would find it more enjoyable if the situation didn’t feel so tense. 

 

‘What’s there to be uneasy about?’ he can practically feel his brain snark, ‘there’s nothing dangerous around.’ Yet his nerves said otherwise, and if the liquid allowed it, he was sure his hair would be standing on end. 

 

Nothingness greets him for what’s probably a few yards longer and Lance is beginning to understand thalassophobia when he feels this strange lurch at his naval. 

 

That’s what it starts as, a small lurch, a tremble, a sense of being tilted that evolves quickly into being tossed. 

 

Where the lights were beneath him Lance can now see them come alive with movement. What was his only stable surface scatters into a million directions and he has the dullest thought that the floor wasn’t even a floor, it was some kind of animal. 

 

A whole lot of animals that were awake, and they were migrating, casting their glow in so many areas that his eyes were helpless to keep up. It’s like the cork on his emotions has been popped in that instance, and with no time to dwell on any of that bullshit, Lance blindly begins reaching for a light.

 

Even if they were alive, there was hope that they were nonlethal. For quiznaks sake, they let Lance stand on them! 

 

Something smooth and round bumps into his left palm and with a renewed ferocity his fingers attempt to ensnare it.

 

A solid mass is wedged in his grip, he’d done it, one was caught. Or well, so he thought until the creature began to yank him with a startling amount of strength. There’s no way Lance can fight back, and for fear he would not be able to catch another, he doesn’t dare let go.

 

It was some kind of underwater bug rodeo with Lance at out of control at the helm. He’s spiralled and dragged before the animal jerks him down and zips past a few small clusters remaining.

 

They’re gaining speed, heading into even newer unexplored waters that Lance hadn’t even know existed mere seconds ago. He can feel nausea begin to creep up his body, fingers shaky but he’s never been more determined not to let go.

 

His body is screaming, it’s screaming for him to release, to get away, to go back to the space he’d been before. But the lights are gone now, all gone save the single one struggling to break free of Lance.

 

It’s finally pitch black and his ears pop, indicating they were traveling downward and that begged a question.

 

If there was a deeper, where was the actual bottom.

 

He doesn’t have long to think about this when his hand jerks up over his head and the rest of his limbs come crashing down into a solid surface. 

 

It’s only by miracles and luck that his grip doesn’t slack upon impact. Lance counts his blessings, the creature is less than pleased. 

 

With not a moment to spare it begins to haul Lance across what he can assume is the new floor. He’s not really confident it’s a floor, but under his knees it feels stable and that’s really all he can ask for.

 

And honestly at this point Lance isn’t asking for much.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours of being toted around like an abused toy, the bug seems to give up the fight.

 

Lance’s whole body is allowed to gently float down against the hard surface, he takes that as his prize.

 

For a moment, just a brief moment, he thinks he has it together, his life is all together and he can work upwards from here, no pun intended. 

 

And then the light begins to die.

 

It’s gradual, in fact if it wasn’t for his sharp eyes he wouldn’t have even noticed. 

 

But it was succeeding, the small animal in his hand is dying and Lance didn’t know why.

 

He jerks himself up as quick as he can, but it’s so hard, the liquid here is denser, unforgiving. It’s all Lance has within him to manage to pull the dying light to his face for inspection. 

 

‘It’s getting colder,’ he thinks, eyes blearily staring into the fading form of this creature that had fought so valiantly against him. With all the thrashing it must’ve burned up what little life force it had left inside, he supposes he should be sad, he’s just numb.

 

There’s nothing more than a pinprick, just a speck from the center of its back. With the weight of the dark crushing down on him, not even his usually chattering lips can part to offer condolences, to say goodbye. 

 

The light dies, and with it Lance feels, any hope he might’ve had to get out of this strange arena.

 

Until that is, a current ripples to life at his left, the floor suddenly a glow in uniform spots running up past his head and higher, higher, higher still to illuminate-

 

………..

 

Its teeth glow brilliantly in the abyss, milky eyes somehow trained on the weakened paladin resting on its spine.

 

The mouth opens.

 

Lance closes his eyes and prays.

**Author's Note:**

> nyello everyone and welcome to Motion Sickness!! Or as i like to call it, it's been a long time since Thrush did a horror fic or even wrote a got dang thing in general so he's trying to get back into the swing of shit. 
> 
> This fic is gonna b rly stilted and weird, I've got a lot'o'stuff planned and I hope you're as confused and excited as i am!!!
> 
> I'm gonna try to update every night or so, to gear myself up for a few other fics i've been just dying to write.
> 
> Wanna check out more of my work or request a prompt? Scoot on over to my [tumblr](http://thrushrut.tumblr.com/) or my [twitter!](https://twitter.com/thrushrut)


End file.
